


The Witch

by iestyn-the-apprentice (Saunne)



Series: The Witch and the Consul [1]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Be kind please, Male Apprentice (The Arcana), Named Apprentice (The Arcana), Not Beta Read, Other, Prologue, english isn't my first language, i need a beta reader, meeting with the Courtiers, some of my headcanons, why Valerius call The Apprentice "Witch"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:42:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22161253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saunne/pseuds/iestyn-the-apprentice
Summary: Valerius doesn’t like witches, with their too-big smiles, their too-bright eyes, and their magnetic auras, which leave him fascinated against his will.He doesn’t like witches and he intends to make it clear to the one hired by the Countess.(Or a rewrite of the meeting with the Courtiers)
Relationships: Apprentice & Nadia (The Arcana), Apprentice & Valerius (The Arcana)
Series: The Witch and the Consul [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1595176
Kudos: 16





	The Witch

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by one of my headcanons about magic in The Arcana, but also by a personal headcanon about Valerius. In my opinion, Valerius is the kind of person who, more than loving it, needs to control everything. The forced fascination he feels because of the magicians’ aura (see headcanons on Magic) is a complete loss of control.

Valerius had never liked witches, magicians, fortune-tellers or whatever their names were. They were most often impostors or scammers, full of themselves, boastful and who, in the end, proved to be blatantly useless. When he had to manage all the state affairs by himself, he no longer counted the number of these charlatans he had had to expel from the palace after they came to offer their “services” in a honeyed voice, their eyes shining with greed. **  
**

So when he heard rumors that the Countess had hired a witch, he didn’t want to believe it. Of all the people the Countess could ask for help, she had gone to see… a witch.

A. _Witch_.

Valerius couldn’t decide if he was disappointed or just furious. It seemed that the Countess had not yet fully recovered from her coma if she made decisions like that. A witch, of all things. Inconceivable.

For a few days, between the arrival of the witch and the announcement of the Countess of her desire to hold a new Masquerade, Valerius had time to think. He hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting the witch but fortunately, the others Courtiers had succeeded in convincing the Countess that meeting her new pupil would be a delicious idea, in Volta’s words. So, while waiting for this famous meeting, he had had time to think.

_What would the witch look like?_

In his mind swirled all the meetings that he had during his regency time. Pot-bellied men, haughty women, overly jovial youngsters, dressed in rags and smelling of dirt, richly dressed or barely covered, overly broad smiles, honeyed voices, invasive smells of herbs and smoke, sharp nails, gleaming eyes… All-day long, he could only think about it, becoming more and more exasperated and tense as time passed.

He wasn’t expecting anything good but he knew he would be disappointed. Whatever happens.

He needed to be disappointed. He couldn’t afford to accept … _that_. He couldn’t afford to be satisfied that a witch was at the palace.

And finally, the time for the meeting had come. The Countess waited patiently, playing her favorite instrument with dexterity, her graceful fingers floating on the keys, lighter than feathers. The other Courtiers, except him and Valdemar, chatted with contentment. Volta regularly grabbed pastries from the tray in the center of the table, remaining silent only the time she needed to chew and swallow the food she devoured furiously. With a sigh, Valerius looked away to look at the Countess again, gently swirling his wine in his glass.

Even when the door opened, announcing the arrival of the witch, escorted by the head servant, Valerius didn’t look away from the Countess. He watched her expression change attentively while taking a sip of wine. He watched as the Countess’s eyes softened, as her lips curved in an affectionate smile, and he had to refrain from gnashing his teeth. It was worse than he thought, the Countess already seemed totally charmed by the witch. To convince her to abandon this nonsensical alliance was going to be difficult.

While the other Courtiers greeted him warmly, Valerius finally deigned to watch the witch. To stay a moment in shock.

Well … It was not what he had expected.

He … The witch was … was … Young. Delicate. Gracile. Frail. Mysterious.

_Attractive_.

And Valerius had a horrible urge to twist their neck. He _hated_ witches. He hated them because even if he could see their smiles too big, their eyes too bright, their voices too soft, even if he knew it was all artifice and fraudulence, he couldn’t … He couldn’t help but be fascinated. And he hated it. This power they had over him by their mere presence, the fascination they wrested from him, over which he had no control… He _hated_ it.

He felt like a prey stuck in a spider web.

Witches, regardless of their gender, age or appearance, always had that sort of aura of mystery and secrecy, that mesmerizing presence that made it hard to look away from them. And this witch was no exception to this rule. Like all of their kind, they were…  
  


 **Mesmeric**.

His hand gripped his glass of wine more firmly while he was biting the inside of his cheek, trying to escape this horrible fascination. He had to look away, to focus on something, anything else … 

The conversation seemed muffled as if his head was underwater. He could hardly hear what Vlastomil said, while he was sitting right next to him. 

He breathed in. And breathed out. Valdemar’s amused look in the corner of his vision was his anchor. He breathed in. And breathed out. He had to regain his composure, hide this fleeting and shameful weakness. He needed to regain control. So he breathed in. And breathed out. And he turned his gaze to the Countess, his mask of imperturbable calm put back in place.

“ **\- Perhaps the Countess might inform her adoring court… how exactly she found herself at the witch’s door that night.** ”

His voice was soft and poised, though dripping with barely veiled sarcasm. But he was fine. He was good.

He had regained control.

He was in control.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the witch’s eyes fixed on his face. He gave them a look, before continuing, more venomous and haughty than ever before.

“ **\- Or perhaps the witch might tell us themself.** ”

There was a moment of waiting, just a moment of silence before he heard the witch’s voice clearly for the first time.

“ **\- Perhaps… Don’t call me like that.** ”

The soft, almost shy voice had the merit of taking him by surprise, but he knew better than to be fooled again. He raised an eyebrow, ignoring the angry gasps of Volta, Vulgora and Vlastomil with superb, before answering, just as softly.

“ **\- Witch ?** ”

The witch smiled gently, their eyes narrowing slightly. Although it was supposed to be a sweet and inviting expression, Valerius could only see the face of a deceptive fox waiting for the slightest weakness on his part to bring him down. So, ignoring the growing annoyance in the Countess’ eyes, he replied.

“ **\- Of course, I misspoke. _You_ are but an apprentice.**”

Oh, their smile was tenser now. _What a pity_. 

The Countess almost spoiled his pleasure, starting to tell how she came to ask the witch for help, but he _knew_ he had won. But it wasn’t enough yet. The witch had to understand that they weren’t welcome, whatever the countess said.

He let out a sigh, cutting the Countess in her narrative. She looked at him, suspicious yet questioning, waiting for what he was going to say. Waiting for what he was going to do. 

She was going to be disappointed, but it was worth the effort.

“ **\- A benevolent universe ? With respect, Countess, your mind may have been occupied of late… You must remember that we, your adoring court, are ever at your side !** ”

She looked at him, looking slightly surprised as he continued, capturing the attention of all the people gathered here.

“ **\- Countess, it pains us to hear that you felt you must look elsewhere for a sympathetic ear. Should you deem is worthy of your trust, we are like open books to you !** ”

He threw his arms with a flourish… And struck _inconveniently_ a jug of perfumed wine which _accidentally_ spilled on the witch. A collective gasp swept the room as he watched the wine trickle down the witch’s pale skin and soak their clothes.

“ **\- How clumsy of me… Surely you know some hocus or pocus to remedy this dilemma ?** ”

The witch looked up to stare at him, before smiling, kindly. But their eyes were dark, and _they couldn’t cheat on him_. Behind her pipe organ, the Countess rose suddenly, drawing all eyes on her. The sun’s rays from the nearby window showered her in warm, vibrant colors. Yet her eyes were colder than ice. And if a stare could kill, Valerius would no longer be of this world.

“ **\- Enough, Valerius. You have exhausted my patience for tonight. Get out. All of you.** ”

He suppressed a sly smile as he got up to leave, preceded by the other Courtiers. As the door closed behind him, he caught a few snippets of conversation between the Countess and her witch.

“ **\- I’m really sorry, Iestyn. I don’t know what got into him…** ”

The door closed, muting the rest of the sentence. He stayed for a moment staring at the ornate door, before heading towards his quarters. In his mind, the scene replayed again and again. The noise of the jug clinking on the table. Purpurine drops dripping down on pale skin, the expression of shock on the witch’s face…

“ **\- Iestyn…** ”

The name escaped him in a breath as he remembered those tarnished golden eyes filled with real surprise while the fine outfit he… they were wearing, surely offered by the countess, stuck to their thin body, soaked in liquid… 

He needed to drink. To drink and forget this infamous witch with their beautiful eyes, their thin body and their hypnotic presence.

He just needed to forget.

**Author's Note:**

> Valerius tries not to “get closer” to Iestyn in any way. He doesn’t want to think of Iestyn as “Iestyn”, only as “the witch”, as an obstacle, something that must be put aside. This is why he always uses the term “witch” instead of his first name and uses the neutral pronouns they/them instead of he/him. It’s a way for him to put some distance.


End file.
